


reborn in fire

by margctbishop



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Let's be honest, Mary sweetie I'm sorry, Oof what even is this, and yes i ripped off the title from a spellw00d quote, because if Zelda is gonna smash face with anyone it's gonna be Michelle Gomez, but Lilith needs your body again, gals supporting their pals, lowkey angsty, sue me, they both have a power kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 04:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margctbishop/pseuds/margctbishop
Summary: “There will always be opposition, men who believe themselves superior to us. You are stronger than them.” She lifted one of Lilith’s hand, turned it so the palm was exposed, and dropped a kiss to the inside of a pale wrist. “You always have been.”⠀Zelda & Lilith face adversity in a new world.





	reborn in fire

Sabrina had managed to free Nicholas, unleashed Lucifer from his prison of flesh and bone and forced him into something akin to the Acheron configuration, but stronger. Zelda had thought it impossible, but her niece had constructed the box from one of Edward’s designs with the help of her mortal friends, and it had worked. The boy had come out burning, vomited ash for weeks upon weeks and screamed in his sleep nearly every night, but Nicholas was free. Against every odd laid out before them, Lucifer was recaptured once more, and the world did not burn. Despite their good fortune, Zelda waited.

To rebuild a church, one must start at the roots. The problem, as it were, was that the roots had been poisoned, quite literally, and a number of them did not survive the first night in the Spellman Mortuary. Those that did were weak and disheveled, even more so when the truth of Father Blackwood’s betrayal was revealed to them. Hilda channeled nervous energy into cooking, and it was a good thing, too. There were a considerable number of mouths to feed, and the joy which passed across the many new faces within their walls after sampling Hilda’s raspberry tarts was the first spark of true happiness that Zelda had witnessed in a long time. In fact, she would even credit Hilda with ensuring the loyalty of the first of them who would pledge their loyalties to The Church of Lilith, though she would never admit that to her sister.

Those who required more reassurance were sat in the parlor while Zelda patiently answered their questions and assuaged their fears. She had decided early on that in order to salvage their few remains, secrecy would serve them very little, and so she told them of the happenings of the past months. She told them of the treachery of Blackwood, of Lucifer’s plans for Sabrina and of Lilith’s help. She explained that they were free to do what they felt they must, but that should they choose to stay, they would be instrumental in the building of a new church, of a church that would encourage witches and warlocks alike and pledge its loyalty to Lilith. Zelda saw the beginnings of fear flash within the eyes of a few of the boys, namely those who had been in the inner circle of Blackwoods’, and she was unsurprised when a few of them chose to leave. The majority of them stayed, though, and in the end nearly all of those who had left returned within the month. It was a new world out there, they said. Covens were upended and revivals were breaking out across the continent. Gradually, each of them pledged their fealty to the new church, and then they turned to Zelda for guidance. Still, she waited.

Blackwood was dead. The story of his death was told by Ambrose in vivid prose: they had tracked him across Europe for weeks until they eventually cornered him in Austria. Prudence had held her gaze steady with his while he pleaded for mercy, while he had tempted her with promises of a life which could be shared by the two of them, father and daughter side by side, if only she'd spare his life.

“You are no father of mine,” she had whispered, and with an exorbitant amount of certitude, she crossed her blades against his neck and severed his head. They had burned his body and returned to Greendale. Word of his death and The Church of Lilith spread, and it brought hordes of wayward witches and warlocks to their doorstep. They craved the familiar, were grasping for something solid in tumultuous times, and ate the stew offered up by Hilda as eagerly as they soaked in Zelda’s sound preachings and calm reassurances that they would have a coven with them, should they want to stay.

The church grew with Zelda at its head, until eventually they outgrew the mortuary and were forced to expand its walls. She watched as young witches came into their own, many of them manifesting powers they had hardly known they possessed. She watched as warlocks, even the most headstrong of them, gradually released the misogynistic ways of the past and began to encourage their sisters. She watched as the boards solidified under their feet, as restlessness gave way to familiar and joy began to resurface. She sat by the hearth in the winter nights and noted this newfound peace that had settled over them, though she could never truly claim to possess it. She sat by the hearth, and she waited.

The week after the last of the snow melted away, Lilith came to them. Hilda prepared a feast, and Zelda ceded her chair at the head of the table and watched as her Queen gracefully slid down into it. She thanked them for welcoming her, for standing by her side during her absence, though she elaborated no more on her time spent in hell. Zelda would be content to take this as a sign of good tidings if she didn't recognize the telltale signs of a woman worn. There were the faint, dark circles under her eyes, and when she was not speaking with someone, she would allow herself to slouch ever so slightly into the back of the chair, as though the strain of holding herself upright was proving too much. Her signature mirth had not diminished completely, but one with an observant eye could see that it had dimmed. Zelda did not know much, but she knew that whatever Lilith had been pitted against had not been kind to her.

And then blue eyes turned upon her, fixed her with a piercing gaze, and the breath caught in Zelda’s chest. This is it, she thought. This is the other shoe that is sure to fall. The waiting was over. In her experience, things were never fated to be good for very long, and Lilith had come to reprimand her for assuming the role of High Priestess without first consulting her. Zelda could see it: dark curls falling over twinkling eyes as she laughed and chided Zelda for being so naive as to believe she could run a coven worthy of worshipping at her feet, of bringing exaltation to her name. She braced herself, took a steadying breath, and awaited judgement.

Suffice it to say, when she caught the corners of Lilith’s mouth turn up into the barest hint of a smile, no malice evident in those brilliant eyes, confusion seeped its way into Zelda’s being. She watched as Lilith reached for her glass, winking at her briefly before clearing her throat and commanding the attention of the table. And then she did something that left Zelda, for once, at an embarrassing loss for words.

She raised her glass, and toasted her. She credited Zelda for the unity presented before her, for rising and acting as the leader that the witch community so desperately needed in a time of great upheaval and disparity. She, quickly followed by the others, drank to her high priestess, and when she finally turned her attention back to the redhead, Zelda could do little more than offer up a watery smile. If she had had any doubts of their new Queen, they were swiftly decimated under the beholden gaze of the woman before her. To have a leader, someone who took the place of the Lucifer himself, recognize the devotion of her followers, to have her thank them for their prayers, spoke volumes.

She left after dinner with the promise of returning soon, bestowing a ghost of a kiss to the rise of Zelda’s cheek.

The appearance of their Queen allowed for Zelda to gain her footing, if only the tiniest bit. She continued to peek through the curtains every so often, searching for signs of the inevitable next harbinger of doom which was sure to arrive at any given moment, but she did so with an air of self-assurance. She might not always be able to prevent catastrophes from coming to pass, but she took the smallest of comforts in knowing that Lilith believed her capable of leading the coven. She would do everything in her power to keep her flock from falling into danger, come what may, as long as her Queen saw fit.

Lilith indeed kept her promise, returning to the Spellman mortuary not a week after her first visit. The house was quiet, witches and warlocks retired to their respective rooms for the night, save for Zelda who was in the middle of conducting her nightly ritual of recasting the protection spell surrounding the house when the sound of something against the front door fell upon her ears. She rose quickly, a myriad of spells on the tip of her tongue should she be forced to unleash them upon whatever unfortunate being had found its way to her home in the dead of night, and slightly cracked the door. The weight of something on the other side forced it open further, and Zelda quickly learned that that something was the crumpled body of her Queen slumped against the door.

“Miss Spellman,” came the greeting from below, low and gravelly, as though she were fighting against all manner of rubble lodged in her throat to force the words out. Zelda would later come to find out that it had been blood impeding the woman’s ability to form properly enunciated words, but at that moment, she had wasted no time in dropping to her knees and pushing sweat-soaked hair away from glassy eyes, able to do nothing else except let her eyes take in the scrape on a defined cheekbone, the trail of crimson dribbling from an open mouth, the gash oozing above a left collarbone. An eternity must have passed before she found her way back to blue. “Aren't you going to invite me in?”

She did, of course. Gently hooking an arm around the woman’s slight frame, she stood for the both of them, struggled down the hall and up 3 stairs before the woman was coughing up blood and Zelda was teleporting them into her bathroom. The brunette’s breathing was shallow, staggered, and she gripped Zelda’s sides tightly as she was deposited onto a chair, fingertips flushing a stark white against the blood caked to her nails. An incantation or two later and she drew deeper breaths, rolled her head and flexed her shoulders, was able to stand on her own when Zelda gave her a suggestive nudge toward the sink so she could wipe away drying blood with a warm cloth.

“You must have questions,” she said, staring so intently that Zelda felt she had no choice but lift her eyes. She was met with weariness.

“None that can't wait until the morning.” She made a final pass with the cloth and dropped it into the sink. One final spell and Lilith was before her in one of her own nightgowns. How bizarre, a fleeting thought ran through her mind, to dress the Queen of hell for bed. The same thought must have passed through the other woman, too, for she gave a rueful upturn of a lip and allowed herself to be led to the bed. She fell into slumber before Zelda could blow out the candle.

Zelda needed not wait long that night. Not an hour had past before she was jolted out of an already fitful sleep, cracking open her eyes just in time to see her bedside lamp flung into the mirror of her vanity. Glass shattered, fell to the floorboards with seemingly more grace than the woman standing before it. She bared her teeth, a snarl ripping its way out of her throat as she grabbed the nearest object on the vanity, an unlucky comb as it happened, and hurled it across the room. Zelda allowed herself a moment of shock before casting a silencing spell around the room, and watched Lilith rage.

She climbed back into bed without a word, breaths leaving her in quick bursts as she sunk under the covers. Zelda watched as her chest slowed. Eyes opened to lock with hers.

“He staged an ambush,” Lilith said, and with the moonlight streaming through open curtains Zelda could see from her place on Hilda’s old bed how the brunette’s body was furled with anger, with tension.

“Who?”

“Some fucking nobody,” she gritted out, like the words pained her as they fell off her tongue and into the open air. “Someone who isn't happy with my swift ascent.”

“Surely you're more powerful than he is.”

“Obviously,” she said. And then, “There are others. And if you put a bunch of nobodies together, they're a bit more difficult to keep subdued.” Silence stretched between them.

“I still find it difficult to believe that they could've bested you,” Zelda admitted.

“I've stretched myself mighty thin lately. Running hell will do that to a gal,” she admitted airily, but Zelda could hear the doubt in her voice, could recognize the dull edge of its sword snagging against her heart as it worked its way between ribs. “I didn't expect everyone to welcome me with open arms, but a little support would be nice.”

And then Zelda was sliding out of bed and padding across the floor. She sunk to her knees and reached out for her Queen’s hands, forcing her own not to tremble as she did. She waited until Lilith raised her eyes, a questioning brow tilting toward the ceiling. Only then did she speak.

“You are Lilith of Aradia. First wife to the first man. More importantly, first witch. You have commanded legions, molded wills to suit your purpose, wielded magic nearly longer than this earth has spun.” She took a steadying breath, conviction swelling within her as she watched the brunette slowly rise to sit in the bed, the moon shining in through the window and casting her with a glow. “You served at the feet of an unworthy man for millennia, and then you seized his power for yourself. You have done the work, and no one has earned the right to rule more than you.” She rose from her knees, sat herself next to the other woman and willed her to listen. “There will always be opposition, men who believe themselves superior to us. You are stronger than them.” She lifted one of Lilith’s hand, turned it so the palm was exposed, and dropped a kiss to the inside of a pale wrist. “You always have been.”

A shaky breath left the other woman, and Zelda let the one hand fall and picked up the other, bringing that one, too, to her lips. When she allowed it to settle back down to the blankets, she heard Lilith speak.

“I cannot make them all listen. There will always be the ones who refuse.”

“Then you crush them under your heel.” An easy reply, no hesitance, and Zelda could see the nerve finding its way back onto her face. A smile slowly stretched across pearl teeth, a hand lifting to brush a lock of copper hair away from shining eyes.

“You, Zelda Spellman, are a gift.” And then it was Zelda’s turn to shift her gaze away from prying eyes. A lithe finger caught under a chin, crooked a head until it was level with the other. “I probably don't deserve your devotion.”

“Have you not been listening?” Green eyes flashed, one of Zelda’s hands catching the wrist of Lilith’s with a firm grasp. Leaning in for the purpose of driving a point home. “You deserve _everything_.”

Zelda would have quite liked being the one to give it to her, so when the sun rose above the house the following morning, she rose with it. The Queen had vanished before dawn, and Zelda had feigned sleep when she felt the cool pads of fingertips trace the curve of her jaw softly, heard a word breathed out centimeters from her ear in a language she did not understand. Sleep had eluded her since, but she was not weary. There was work to be done, and she found the revival of purpose aching within her bones. There was a new world beyond the walls, one that craved guidance and structure, and Zelda would give it to them in the name of her Queen.

Missionary missions were laid out across eggs and toast, young witches and warlocks eager to go forth and seek those willing to listen, to aid in the growing of the church. Sabrina was the first among them, convincing her aunt that not only was she quite old enough to be considered for the task, but more than capable. Nicholas stood at her side, and between the two of them, Zelda could hardly find grounds enough for a refusal. So it happened that a team of 5 left Spellman grounds the following morning, Sabrina at the forefront and loyal Nicholas at her coat tails. Zelda prayed to Lilith for protection.

Sabrina kept in faithful contact for 4 days, until one morning they rung her line only to find it disconnected. Fear pricked up their spines, the familiar pull of worry settling in Zelda’s gut. All divination spells fell short, and they contacted fellow witches to no avail.

On the 7th day of waiting, the Queen came for her High Priestess. She led Zelda through a thicket, damp air sucked in with shaky breaths as she trailed behind the shadow slinking through the trees before her. They came upon a cottage sat in a small clearing, and upon entering an unsettling feeling rested in Zelda’s stomach. A cross sitting right-side-up above the fireplace, floral patterns enveloping every surface. A framed photo of a man she did not recognize.

“This is…”

“Mary Wardwell’s home.” A pause as the other woman willed royal fire to light the logs in the hearth. She lowered herself into a chair near the warmth, running sharp nails over wooden arms. “It begun to feel more or less like my home, the more time I spent here.”

“I don't understand,” Zelda admitted, sinking into a chair opposite the brunette. “Why have you brought me here?”

“To provide you the peace you so desperately crave, my darling Zelda.” Eyebrows were raised, almost as if daring her to contradict. Zelda said nothing. “I hear your prayers.”

“You do?”

“Of course,” she said, a slow smirk sliding across painted lips. “Why, I listen for them.” She rose, coming to tower above Zelda, letting a hand lift to cup a cheek blushing more fiercely by the second. “Such sweet things.” A finger coming down to trace lightly over a nerve-bitten lip before retracting. The next words washed over Zelda like precious rain. “Sabrina is safe.”

“Where is she?”

“Northern France.”

“_What_? How? Last I knew, she was in Louisiana tracking a dispersed coven of swamp witches.”

“She caught wind of an uprising in Europe. A group of witches overthrowing their High Priest. She went to offer assistance and hopes to sew enough roots to establish good relations.”

“How do you know all of this?” A lift of a defined eyebrow had her stumbling for the next words. “I mean, do you have a way to contact her? Her phone-”

“Shut off, yes,” Lilith said, a bottle of something dark materializing along with two tumblers. “I keep watch over my followers, Zelda.” A glass exchanged hands, flesh meeting flesh. Shivers running down a spine. “Especially ones so devoted as the likes of you.”

Zelda found herself once again grasping for words, watching as dark liquid passed through cherry lips, tightening the grip on her own glass to stop the small trembles from revealing her nerves. And then, blessedly, she retrieved her senses.

“Thank you.”

“It is me who should be thanking you.” A pause, a pointed, questioning glance. “For allowing her to go in the first place.”

“As if I had much say in the matter,” she said, eyes rolling heavenward.

“But you did,” Lilith countered, rising once more. “And you put aside your own worries for the sake of the coven.” A blush returning, a dark-maned demoness closing the distance between them. “I had reservations, I'll admit. Familial loyalty runs deeply within you. But you did what was required. This is only the beginning, dear Zelda.”

“Is it?” A shell of a phrase, hoarse and raw, the proximity of blue flames illuminating the body before her, framing wild hair and even bluer eyes, leaving the witch blinking quickly. She heard the power drip from the words, and it was utterly intoxicating.

“Don't you see?” A question for a question. A foot less separating them. “Hell is falling into line. With each day the opposition is weakening, heads are rolling. And here, you are building my empire. I can feel it already. You have made me strong, Zelda Spellman. You are creating my legacy.” And then the Queen dropped to her knees before the witch, taking her drink and casting it to the side, replacing the cool glass with the warmth of a hand enclosed within another. “Soon, the whole of hell will bow before me. Witches and warlocks across the globe will send their prayers to me, and I will reign.” The corner of Zelda’s lip quirked as she watched her Queen revel. And then, “And you will reign beside me.”

A cough, sputtering on air, a soothing hand snaking up to run circles on her back. A wide-eyed, startled gaze met with veneration.

“_What_?”

“You will reign beside me, Zelda. For without you, I am nothing, and without me, your prayers fall on deaf ears. We will have everything.”

“But…I don't understand. Why-”

“Why you?” A slow smile softening defined features, and then she was standing. “Because you are worthy.” Simple, reverent, and then Zelda found herself being pulled up, head level with that of her Queen. “Because together we will take this new world and restore order. The witching community will grow stronger than it ever has been. There are untold possibilities for us, my darling.” Zelda could feel the breath leaving the woman before her in warm bursts, hot on her skin. She felt the hands settled on her sides, saw the twinkle of hellfire reflecting from lakes of blue. She did not tremble.

“Yes.”

Twin smiles mirrored one another, and they sealed the deal with a kiss, and then another, and another, until Zelda was splayed out on the rug before the hearth, the heat from the fire paling in comparison to the inferno left in the wake of nimble fingers, to the soft mouth trailing lava down a path known only to Lilith, to the Queen on her knees before her High Priestess, a hand anchored firmly in copper curls and leading her toward a precipice unlike any other. And when Zelda could climb no higher, she opened her eyes to find twinkling blue shining down upon her, and she flew.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a proper slut for validation, just an FYI ;)


End file.
